


Love is our resistance

by Serenellaa



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Guards, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Middle Ages, Minor Character Death, Psychological Torture, Rebels, Slow Burn, Suicide Idealization, mentioned execution, the losers are in their 20s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenellaa/pseuds/Serenellaa
Summary: In the Kingdom of Derry, Eddie Kaspbrak is a soldier trained to protect the King Pennywise and destroy the rebels, such as the criminals named The Losers. Led by the wish of avenging his parents death, Eddie is ready to guard Richard Tozier, recently captured. However, interacting with him will lead Eddie to discover that maybe the criminals are the heros and that his life might have been a lie.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. And ask no questions

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote a fanfiction, so bear with me. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry about the mistakes, any correction is more than appreciated!  
> I'll put trigger warnings for each chapter, for this one: mention of physical torture and murder.  
> Enjoy!

It had passed almost one hour since Eddie had been harshly woken up. The sun had not risen yet and it was cold in the Throne Room, all Eddie wanted was to go back to sleep, maybe to be able to continue that dream that had been interrupted. He was dreaming of an open field, the hot sun on his skin and a man was holding him, lifting him up in the air and it felt like flying, only to fall again in the safe embrace of the man, whose face was a little blurred, but Eddie knew it was his father. Then a woman would call them to tell them to go back inside, as dinner was ready. Eddie did not see her, but he knew she was his mother. Maybe the dream was just the product of his imagination, but Eddie liked to think it was a memory. A distant memory of happy times that would never come back, just like his parents. They were both murdered when he was just five years old and the very reason of their death was standing just a few feet from him, or at least what was left of it. 

Eddie and the other guards of the King were all in the Throne Room, standing in a circle, waiting for the King to arrive. In the middle of the circle, was standing Richard Tozier, a notorious member of a criminal organisation, whose purpose was to destroy their beloved Kingdom of Derry. Eddie was proud to serve the Kingdom, the captain of the guards Oscar Bowers had taken him after the death of his parents and had trained him to protect the King, to destroy the criminals, to destroy the people who had killed his parents. He knew the criminals were extremely dangerous, that they were masters manipulators, that they were trained to kill and steal. 

Now, looking at Richard Tozier, Eddie was… surprised. He was nothing like he had imagined him. Sure, he had seen his face drawn in the posters that were hanged across all the kingdom, offering a reward for whoever could provide information about him, but Eddie had still an idea in his mind of what he would be like in real life. He had imagined someone older, someone more threatening. Instead, the man couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than him. He was tall and he had long, black, curly hair. His jaw was sharp, and he was wearing a pair of binoculars. If he wasn't a criminal and a danger for the kingdom, Eddie would have found him... beautiful. He shook himself of his thoughts, almost afraid that somebody could hear them. Nobody could know. Nobody could know that what he was supposed to feel about girls he felt about boys. He then wondered if it was true, if the man had really tried to kill the King, if he had really came as close as the King's chambers' door to do it, as Patrick had told him when he had woken him up. His thoughts were interrupted by Victor Criss's voice.

"The King is coming!" 

Eddie straightened up his back. He had seen the King many times, but there was something about him that always made him feel uncomfortable. 

The doors opened and the King entered. The guards moved to the side of the room, as the King made his way towards the throne. Then he sat down and looked at the guards, scanning them with his eyes that looked almost yellow. Eddie felt almost as if he could read into his deepest and darkest secrets. 

Unable to stand the King's gaze, Eddie looked at Richard. His expression was neutral, he was showing no emotion. That was new. Usually, whoever was brought in front of the King, would be shaking, with tears streaming down their face. Eddie felt almost admiration for his courage. 

"Bow before your King!" said Oscar Bowers, speaking to Richard, who, instead of doing as he was told, spat in his face. Bowers kicked him and Richard fell to his knees. "Much better now." 

Richard tried to move again, but was restrained by the guards next to him, while the others were whispering and laughing. Then the King raised his hand, ordering silence. "I have finally the pleasure of meeting you, Richard Tozier." His cruel smile sent cold shivers down Eddie's spine. "Beg for your life and I may decide to spare you." Of course, Eddie knew that wasn't true. The King just liked to play with his prisoners. 

Richard looked at the King with proud eyes, a challenge written in them. "Never." 

"Very well, then." The King made a pause. "Your name is Richard Tozier, you are part of a group of rebels called The Losers, is this a lie?" 

Richard stayed silent. Bowers pulled his hair. "Answer your King."

"No, it’s not a lie."

"Tonight, you broke in the castle with the intention of killing me, is this a lie?" 

Richard gulped. "No, it is not a lie."

The King smiled again. "I don't believe further investigation is needed." He got up and walked towards Richard, bending so he could at him directly in the eyes. "Do you know what I do with such criminals as yourself, who commit high treason to the King?" 

Richard shrugged. "You sent them flowers?" 

The King slapped him so hard, Richard lost his balance and fell on the floor. "Answer me, boy!" 

Richard straightened up, as much as he could, since he was still on his knees. "You have them beheaded." 

The King clapped his hands. "Excellent! Now, since you knew the correct answer, I'm going to let you stay in our nicest cell!" He walked back to throne. "The execution will take place thirty days from tonight." He spoke to Bowers then. "Take him to the West Tower." 

"Yes, my King." Bowers bowed and pulled Richard's arms to make him get up. 

As they walked away, the King spoke to the remaining guards. "I want him guarded day and night, never leave him out of sight." He paused for a moment. "Huggins you shall stand by his cell from six in the morning to noon." 

Belch bowed. "Yes, my King. Thank you for your trust."

The King shook his head, as if it wasn't something important. “Criss, you will guard him from noon to six in the evening.”

As Belch did, Victor bowed. “Yes, my King.”

“Hockstetter, your turn will start from six and finish at midnight.” 

Patrick bowed as well. “It will be my pleasure to serve you, my King.” 

Eddie had done the math. It was six hours each, which meant that there was still one turn left to assign, from midnight to six in the morning. Eddie expected the King to assign that turn to Henry Bowers, after all, it would be fitting, since Henry, Belch, Patrick, and Victor were very close. Instead, the King turned towards him. Eddie looked at his ears, partly hidden by the King’s hair, red as blood. It was a trick that he had learned a long time ago. The King didn’t appreciate when someone wouldn’t look at him in the eyes, but Eddie could not stand the sight of them. 

“Edward Kaspbrak, you will too guard our prisoner, from midnight to six in the morning.” The King smiled. “It would be your first task since the end of your training, correct?”  
“Yes, my King.” Eddie tried to keep his voice steady. “I will not disappoint you.” 

“Excellent.” Then the King turned to Henry and Eddie relaxed a little. “Henry Bowers, I know you must feel disappointed, but I promise, you too will get a chance to have a little fun with our prisoner.” Eddie could see Henry’s smile and a strange light in his eyes. “You all are dismissed, retire to your rooms and rest. As soon as it is six, your turn starts Huggins.” 

They all bowed and left the Throne Room, except for Henry, who stayed as the King talked to him, his smile growing bigger and bigger. 

*

When it was dinner time, Eddie was sitting with Belch, Victor and Henry. He wanted to eat in silence, but it seemed like he wouldn’t be so lucky. 

“So, why do you think the King wants to wait a month for the execution? Why not execute that bastard immediately?” asked Victor. 

Eddie didn’t like that kind of questions. A good soldier does what he’s told and doesn’t waist his time with questions. However, he could imagine the answer. If the King was keeping him alive, he probably wanted something from him. 

“Maybe Henry knows” Eddie suggested. 

Henry smiled. “The King is using him to find out were his friends are. He is confident that he will break and tell us. Then he will have him executed.”

“And if he says nothing during these thirty days?” asked Belch.

Henry shrugged. “I guess he will have him killed anyway.”

“And what is your role in all this, Henry?” Victor spoke with his mouth full of food. Eddie found that disgusting. 

“Couldn’t you guess when you looked at his face?” Henry sounded proud.

“So, you hit him? To make him talk?”

“Yes. He even tried to fight back, but we made sure to tie his hands tight.”

Easy to fight someone with his has tied, thought Eddie. If he were to do the same thing, he would have let the prisoner fight back. It was a greater satisfaction to bring someone down when you knew the fight was fair. Eddie didn’t need any tricks and that made him proud. 

“And did you get something?” asked Belch.

Henry clenched his fists. “Not yet. He kept talking nonsense. The King said that if we don’t manage to get something from him, he will… take the matters in his own hands.”  
Everybody went quiet. They knew well what that meant. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“Are you ready for your turn, Kaspbrak?” Henry spoke again with an expression that was half mocking. They all thought he was weak, that he would break sooner or later, and Eddie spent everyday proving them wrong. 

“Indeed.” And it was true. He still had a couple of hours before he had to replace Patrick, and it couldn’t wait for his turn to come. He wanted to prove that he was a good soldier, that he could protect the Kingdom. 

“It’s the first time you see one of them, right? One of the rebels?” Belch licked his lip. “The people who have killed your parents…” 

Eddie held the table so hard his knuckles turned white. When they were children, the others used to make fun of the death of his parents and he would always cry. Now, however, he was strong, he wouldn’t even shed a tear. “He will pay for his crimes” said Eddie and then he got up.

“Where are you going?” asked Victor. 

Eddie didn’t turn around as he walked away from the table. “To train and you should do the same.”

*

Back in his room, Eddie was practising with his sword, hitting the air as if it were his worst enemy. Those idiots did not understand a thing. They were all taken as children to be trained as soldiers, but they had their families to write and to tell them how they were proud of them. Eddie often wondered if his parents would be proud of him. If they would be happy to know that he had successfully completed his training and he was given his first important job as a guard. He didn’t remember much of them or their death, all he knew was that Oscar Bowers had taken him and brought him to the Castle, but the Bowers were far from what a family should be. Oscar treated him differently than he did with his own son and hit Eddie harder than all the others when he did something wrong. 

Eddie never complained, though. He knew all of that was meant to make him a good soldier and he aimed to be the best. Not that it should be too complicated, since his peers were all so stupid. Good at combat, sure, but Eddie had learned that it took more than that to win. He had learned to use his brain and even his shorter stature to his advantage.  
As it was almost midnight, Eddie secured his sword to his belt and left his room. He walked through the dark corridors, but instead of descending the stairs that led to the dungeons, where they usually kept the prisoners, he climbed the stairs that led to the West Tower. There was a single cell in there, as the King wanted the prisoner to feel isolated. On the top of the stairs, there was a door, and behind the door there was the cell. 

Eddie knocked hard on the door, to let Patrick know he was there. The door opened and Patrick looked at him, with a weird expression on his face. 

“What, the prisoner gave you a hard time?” said Eddie sarcastically. 

“Watch out, Kaspbrak, he has quite a mouth” answered Patrick. “Also, he complained all the time about his binoculars.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “His what?”

“His binoculars. He says he’s got a headache and won’t shut his mouth about it.” 

“And how is that my problem?” 

“He complains all the time and I don’t want to hear that tomorrow.”

“Then go get them, idiot! If Henry hasn’t destroyed them already.” It was customary for them to confiscate all the objects the prisoners had on them, in case there was something useful. Eddie walked past him and shut the door. Only that idiot of Patrick could worry about such a stupid matter. 

The cell was made up of a huge space completely empty, with only a window that would let the moonlight in. At the end of the room there were bars that would go from the floor to the ceiling, and behind those bars there was of course the prisoner. He was sitting with his head against the wall, his eyes closed. Eddie crossed his arms as he began his watch. Now, he didn’t look threatening at all, Eddie had a hard time imagining him murdering two innocent parents. Not like it was possible that it was actually him, who had killed his parents. Still, he was part of the group, who did it. Then, the prisoner opened his eyes and looked at him for a couple of seconds before he spoke. 

“Like what you see?” 

Eddie was taken aback. “What?”

The prisoner, Richard, stood up and came closer to the bars. “I asked you if you like what you see. You all must think I’m very handsome since you are taking turns to look at my pretty face.” 

“I don’t think so.” Eddie looked at him, now that he was closer, he could see he had a black eye and a split lip. 

“So, you don’t think I’m handsome?” 

“I think you should shut the fuck up.” Eddie was growing tired of him already. Patrick was right after all. 

“Just one more thing.” Richard help up a finger. “If you are going to hit me like your friends did, could you just get over with it? It’s been such an exciting day that I’m exhausted, and I would like to sleep.” 

Instinctively, Eddie scanned his body, looking for more injuries. Then he returned to himself. Even if he didn’t share the passion for hitting prisoners behind the bars, it was none of his business what the others did. “If you behave, that won’t be necessary.” 

Richard tilted his head. “You know, you don’t look like the others. They all looked like they were trying their best to be scary, but you look…” he made a pause. “Cute!” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Cute! You are so short and cute with your little sword ready to go to battle.” Then he started laughing like a maniac. 

“You’re going to regret this.” Eddie hissed. 

“Oh, really?”

Someone knocked at the door. It was Patrick holding the infamous binoculars. Eddie took them and didn’t spare Patrick more than a glance. He closed the door and walked back to the bars. 

“If you shut your mouth, you’ll have these back” he said, holding up the binoculars.

“Oh, my binoculars! I was having the worst headache, you know.” 

“Back off, to the wall” ordered Eddie. 

Richard put his hands up. “As you wish.” He took some step back, until his back was touching the wall. 

Eddie kneeled, letting his hand through the bars as he put the binoculars on the ground. He didn’t hear anything as Richard walked back to the bars, nothing at all, not until he felt his fingers closing against the hilt of his sword. Before Richard could take it, Eddie grabbed his wrist with one hand, and the knife he kept in his boot with the other, pressing it hard against Richard’s throat. 

“What do you think you are doing?” said Eddie, his teeth pressing together and his hold getting tighter and tighter. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“You must have a strong death wish.” Eddie still didn’t let go. 

“Go ahead then and do it.” He sounded frustrated. “Just kill me already!”

For a moment, Eddie looked at him. He looked at his face, at his fierce eyes, despite all the bruises and thought that it would be a pity that the King would eventually break his spirit. He pushed him away from him. “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” Eddie got up, putting his knife where it belonged. “It would be too easy like this. I like my enemies to be as armed as I am.” 

That time, it was Richard who stared at him. “You really aren’t like the others.” 

“Listen to me and behave. It will make your permanence here… easier.” 

Richard just shook his head. “And give you all the satisfaction? I don’t think so.” 

Eddie didn’t say anything.


	2. I tried to infiltrate, but now I'm losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!   
> First of all, happy new year and thank you so much for the positive feedback on last chapter, I'm so happy to see you're liking it.   
> Now, two things about this chapter: first, we get to see Richie's pov, second TW for description of physical torture. If you wish to skip it, it starts at "you don't look smart enough to keep up with my pace." and finishes at "So, Richie did what he was good at". Please, be safe.  
> As always, sorry about potential mistakes, any correction is more than appreciated.  
> Enjoy!

He should have known it wasn't a good idea. 

Well, that was what the others have said. So, he technically knew it wasn't a good idea, actually it was a terrible idea, but he had decided to do it anyway. 

The morning before he had left the others, Richie had a long, endless conversation with them about why it wasn't a good idea, a terrible idea, the worst idea that had ever come out of his brain no bigger than a nut, as Stan had said. 

He smiled at the thought of him. Stan was the one who always used the harshest words, but nonetheless, he always said the right thing. Because, deep down, Richie knew that he was right, that they were all right, but still he did what he wanted to do, being his impulsive self. 

He recalled what they have said in response to his suggestion. 

"F-forget about, Richie!" had said Bill.

"This is the worst idea that you've ever come up with!" Stan had said, treating him as if Richie had lost his mind.

"Don't dare do something like that!" Beverly had screamed.

"Maybe you should consider the consequences" had suggested sweet Ben.

"It won't work." Mike had simply shaken his head.

And he really should have listened. If he had, now he wouldn't be all alone in a cold cell, counting the days that led to his execution.

If he closed his eyes, Richie could pretend that he was still with them. All laying down around a dying fire, looking at the stars, with Bill telling them stories, that Richie would always ruin with some brilliant joke, Mike talking about old books and faraway places, Ben dreaming about cities that he would build, Beverly adding some witty comment, and then whispering about the beautiful clothes she had seen around, and Stan being the most rational one, but still finding solace in imagining the future, a simple and quiet life for himself and someone special. 

Oh, if he missed them already. Only a few days prior, they were all together, spending the mornings trying to do their best to repair the damage the King and the guards had done, and the nights curled up against each other, talking and laughing, pretending that they were not stuck in the middle of a war, without any certainties that the future they were fighting for would actually become reality. 

The thing was, Richie was tired of that life. All he wanted, all he was capable of doing was making other people laugh, despite the fact that his friends would always tell him to shut up, he knew he was good at that. He was tired of seeing people suffer, he was tired of fearing for his life, he was tired of feeling powerless. 

He often wondered why it was them who had to do it. Why it couldn't be someone else, anyone. 

"O-our legacy" Bill would have replied. 

Well, Richie wanted to forget about it. He wanted to forget about their legacy and that stupid plan that didn't even work anyway. 

That was the last thing they had talked about the morning before he left. He remembered having shouted at Bill that they needed to act, for real, and as soon as possible. Bill had replied that they couldn't just attack the Castle, that they didn't stand a chance alone against all the guards, and that even if the original plan didn't work out, they could still come up with a new one, they just needed more time. 

And Richie didn't want to waste any more time. 

After everyone had scolded him about his idea of infiltrating inside the Castle and killing the King, he gave up trying to convince them to follow him in, as Beverly had called it, a suicide mission. 

For the rest of the day, he was his usual self, cracking random jokes, irritating Stan, giving Bill advices, and laughing with Beverly. 

He should have listened to them.

When night came and everyone was fast asleep, he remembered gazing into the darkness of their underground shelter, the decision made, a will to put an end to all of it that was impossible to suffocate. He stood up, taking his time to look at the others for what he knew would not be the last time, even if a part of him, though small, feared that he wouldn't make it out alive. He loved them all so much, they were family. He then softly touched the ring that rested on his forefinger, a memory of his father. He took it off, not wanting to risk losing it, and put it next to Beverly's head. 

"I'm sorry" he whispered. Then, he secured his knives to his belt and left his friends behind.

It took him a couple of days to reach the Castle, it was the first journey he spent alone in so many years, he longed for his friends' presence. He kept himself company by whistling and singing old songs, along with making up on the spot some new Voices, that his friends would have probably found horrible. He had tried to make the trip as quick as possible, not wanting to risk being recognized by anyone, since he knew there was a poster with his face hung up in every part of the Kingdom. Any time he would see one, it would send a chilling sensation down his spine. 

When he finally arrived, it was in the middle of the night. He didn't have an actual plan, just one purpose: to kill the King. 

So, that was it. He managed to enter the Castle, silent as a shadow, after all those years spent hiding, he could easily walk without being heard. He didn't have any idea of where to go, he just followed where most of the guards were located, since he imagined the King's chambers would be the most protected. He was close, so close. His heart was beating so fast, his hands were trembling. He was going to do it, he was going to kill the tyrant that terrorized the Kingdom, he was going to avenge his father, and Bill's brother and everyone else, they were going to live in peace...

And then he was caught.

He should have seen it coming. 

Now, sitting against his cell's wall, on the third night of his permanence in the tower, all he wanted to do was to cry. He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit those stone walls until his hands were bleeding, he wanted to kick the bars and make them fall on the ground. He wanted to spit on the faces of the guards, the idiots, who thought he would really betray his friends like that. His friends. He wanted to go back to them, he wanted to go home. 

He had tried to sleep the night before, curling up on the cold floor, thinking he would be so exhausted that he would fall asleep immediately, but he was wrong. Every part of his body hurt because of what had happened the day before: a couple of hours after he was first brought to his cell, one of the guards came for him.

"Remove your shirt" he ordered.

"Eager to see me naked?" Richie raised an eyebrow.

The guard hit the bars, producing a sound loud enough to make Richie jump on the spot. "Just do it or I'll take care of it."

Richie did as he was told. Then the guard opened the bars and grabbed his wrists. Richie tried to put up a fight, but he was tired and, in the end, the guard managed to tie his hands behind his back, afterwards he dragged out. 

He made him descend the stairs that led to his cell, then some more, until they arrived in front of a closed door. When they entered, it didn't take Richie long to understand that it was a torture room, thanks to the whips, the knives, pliers and other tools hanging on the walls. In the middle was standing another one of the young guards, holding a whip, with a strange smile on his face, some sort of cruel expression mixed with emptiness. After the door was closed behind his back, the guard slowly walked towards him, caressing the whip. 

"Well, well. What do we have here?" said the guard, licking his lip. "Tozier, right? How about we have a little chat?" 

Richie knew what was about to happen. He sank his fingernails on his palms. Then he grinned. "I love chatting, unfortunately, you don't look smart enough to keep up with my pace." 

The guard punched him so hard, Richie lost his balance and almost fell. "When I'm done with you, you won't feel like joking anymore." He then nodded to the other guard, who pushed Richie down to his knees.

"Where are your friends hiding?" 

As the guard leaned down to his face, Richie made a disgusted face.

"Next time you do an interrogation, try wash your teeth first." 

The guard clenched his fists, then went around his back. 

Richie knew pain well. Ever since he was a child, he would climb up every tree he encountered, falling most of the times, resulting in him breaking a bone or simply scratching his knees or elbows. Each time, he would run to him mother, sniffing softly, looking at her with teary eyes. She would sit down with him, caressing his black curls, whispering to him to hold on a little longer, that the pain was going to pass in the end. 

And that was what Richie tried to keep in mind for the rest of his life, since he left his childhood home for engaging in a war against the King. Every time he would fight with a guard and get a bruise or a cut, he would clench his jaw and think: the pain will pass.

But with each lash on his back, it became harder and harder to remembered that. The whip cut through his skin with brutal force, making his back burn and his body shake. 

"Where are they hiding?" 

Richie needed a moment to catch his breath, even though he tried his best not to show any weakness. "Under a tree."

"What tree?" 

"The tree I'm gonna shove up your ass!"

And the whipping started again.

However, he resisted.

To every time he was asked either were his friends were or were their hiding spot was, Richie would reply with some random comment about the room or the guards’ attire, he even asked about the weather. Anything, really, he would have said anything, except what they truly wanted to know. 

At some point, Richie lost count of the lashes, the guard stopped and turned around again to face him.

"Fucking answer!" he screamed, kicking Richie on his ribs.

Richie closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else entirely. 

When everything was over, Richie was so tired and in pain he could barely stand straight. He thought they were going to give him a break, but he quickly discovered he wouldn't be so lucky. All the guards took their time either insulting him or throwing things at him, one of them even grabbed him by the collar and repeatedly punched him in the face. 

So, Richie did what he was good at: making jokes, specifically, jokes he would use to mock the guards. They didn't seem to appreciate. That made Richie proud of himself. He loved to infuriate them, he was never going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him crying for the pain or scared. 

Because, even if Richie would never had admitted it out loud, he was very scared. He didn't fear being dragged again in the torture room and whipped or kicked or hit. He knew pain well. He knew what to expect from it. Therefore, he wasn't worried about the fact that he could let something about his friends slip from his mouth, they could have done their absolute worst, he would have kept quiet. 

The only thing that scared him was the execution. 

Once again, he was not scared by the fact that it would hurt, even if for just a second, he wasn't really sure how it worked. No, what scared him was the after, if there was an after of course. He wasn't really interested in the occult or the spirits world, but now he wished he was. If he was more like Stan, he would have found comfort in the knowledge that there was something better, somewhere where he would be happier, after this life, a reward for all the suffering he had endured in his lifetime. But he didn't believe in anything. Why would he? He was young and strong and full of life force. Why would he worry about a potential afterlife? 

Now, he wished he believed in something. Something that would make it all easier. He wasn't scared of the pain or of betraying his friends. He was scared of dying. He couldn't even bear the thought of not existing anymore. He wanted to run and swim and laugh and cry and scream. Once again, outside in the sun, touching the grass and climbing up the trees. Those small, insignificant moments, everything now seemed so precious. 

He couldn't even imagine it. What was it like to be dead? Was it like sleeping? An endless sleeping state without any dreams? He wouldn't feel anything anymore. No more pain, no more joy. He had always thought that it would have been noble to die for a good cause, but now that he found himself in that situation, he was utterly terrified. The only thing he could do was not giving up, not giving the guards and the King the satisfaction to see him crumble. If it really was the end, he would spit on their faces until the last moment.  
These thoughts made him feel hopeless and desperately sad, so unlike his usual joyous, carefree self. He couldn't even bring himself to eat. It seemed like the cruellest of the tortures to feed him when they knew he would be executed, plus, his jaw hurt so much, he wasn't exactly hungry. 

As if he could hear his thoughts, the night guard spoke. "Don't you eat?"

Richie signed. What was the point anyway? He turned around, facing the guard standing above him. He was different than the other guards. Less angry, less violent. He just stood there looking at him, but not like the others did, with a smirk on their faces, as if they were enjoying seeing him like that. Instead, the night guard, the short one, he just stayed there, most of the time silent, his expression neutral. Richie had enjoyed getting on his nerves the night before, just because he was still a guard after all. But apart from that, he was almost nice. 

"I'm not really hungry" Richie replied. "Perhaps, you should have it. Maybe it'll help you grow taller some more." Then he laughed.

The guard let out an irritated groan. "You're not funny, you know?" 

There was a brief pause, then the guard spoke again. "Why don't you eat? The truth now." He walked towards the bars, leaning to wall on his right side. "Did the other guards do something with your food?" 

Richie raised an eyebrow in surprise. "No."

"Then what?" 

Richie sighed. "It's just that my jaw hurts too much, I don't really think I could eat."

The guard nodded. "Okay. I'll take care of it." 

For a moment, Richie thought he was going to beat him up some more, instead, he did nothing at all. 

Then, the next day, the night guard arrived accompanied by a man Richie had never seen before.

"Treat his wounds" ordered the guard. 

Richie stared at the guard the whole time. He was looking outside, not sparing him a glance, letting the healer do his work. Instead, Richie took his time taking in the guard's appearance. He was pretty short, but he still had a toned body, probably because of all the training. His features were soft, yet mainly. Something about his brown eyes and his tanned skin was intriguing. Richie would have found him beautiful, if he wasn't a guard. Who knew, maybe in another life...

"Thank you" said the guard to the healer, when he was done. 

The healer simply replied with a nod before leaving.

Richie batted his eyelashes, mentally arguing if he was supposed to said something. He smiled. "You're so cute, I knew you were the kind one!"

The guard shook his shoulders. "Just because I treated you like a human, doesn't mean we're friends."

Richie shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of thinking it." He let his gaze linger on the guard for another moment. "But thank you." 

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome." 

Who knew, maybe in another life…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you skipped the torture part: Henry asked Richie were the other Losers were and he didn't reply.  
> Okay, I know there was too much thinking and too little dialogue, but I promise you next chapter will be more exciting! It is ready, so I'll probably update in a couple of days. For now, I hope you enjoyed this one.  
> Chapter title: lyrics from "Mercy" by Muse.  
> Serenellaa


	3. You've been bitten by a true believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there.  
> So, I was supposed to put this up yesterday night... and then I had a rough night. But it's okay now.   
> Thanks a lot to all of you who are reading/liking this.   
> As usual, some tw: very slight suicide idealization and description of psychological torture (if you wanna skip it, it starts at “Very well, then. You are giving me no choice.” and finished at “Look at you now, so pathetic.”).  
> This is the longest chapter so far and probably my favourite, I hope you'll like it too! Enjoy!

As the days passed, Eddie fell in a new routine. He would wake up at around noon and have lunch, then he would practise in the Castle's yard, then he would have dinner, then practise again, then he would take his turn watching Richard, then he would go to bed. Repeat. Eddie liked routines, they made him feel efficient. 

Everything was always the same. He ate everyday the same food, practised the same exercises, slept in the same position. The only hint of change was Richard. Everyday, the prisoner would come up with something new to irritate him, some new joke, some new sharp comment on his height, his face, his armour. Sometimes Eddie would talk back, sometimes he would remain silent. 

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" 

It was the sixth day of his watch and, even if Richard had everyday a new bruise or a new cut, Henry confessed him that Richard hadn't told them nothing new, nothing to locate the other rebels. Eddie knew what was coming. 

"No" answered Eddie. 

"Well, I'm going to ask anyway." Richard tapped his fingers on the bars, like he always did. Annoying. "What happened to my knives?" 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You think I would tell you." 

Richard smiled. "I hope so. You see, they are very special to me." Richard walked up and down the small space behind the bars. "You know, it is kind of weird. The way I got my glasses back. Almost as if you are keeping all my stuff in some kind of place. Is that so? You keep the prisoners' stuff?" Richard looked at him then, as if he was studying him. "Oh, you do!" 

Eddie felt himself starting to panic. "How do you know?" 

Richard's eyes lightened up. "So, it's true then!" 

"How did you know?" 

"I didn't. I randomly guessed, and you just confirmed it." Richard busted out laughing.

Eddie felt his blood run cold. Guards weren't supposed to give away information to prisoners, nothing at all. "You'd better shut up about it."

Richard leaned towards him. "And if I don't?" 

In the best scenario, the King would have Eddie whipped. In the worst, he would kill him with his bare hands. "I'd be in trouble." 

Richard chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He moved his hand to his mouth, locking it with an imaginary key. "Just because you've been the nicest one so far."

Eddie rolled his eyes. 

"No, really. If you weren't serving that monster I would almost like you." 

"Don't talk about the King that way!" Eddie snapped. 

"Or what? Are you gonna hit me? Are you gonna sentence me to death?" said Richard, with a mocking tone. 

"If you weren't a criminal, you wouldn't have been put on a death sentence" hissed Eddie.

Richard stayed silent for a moment. "At least I'll die for something I believe in. What will you die for?" 

Eddie took in his fierce expression, the challenge written in his eyes, as if he truly believed in what he was saying. The King was right, there was no chance of redemption for criminals. "For something I believe in." 

Another pause. "Let me tell you a story." 

"I don't want to hear it." 

"Cut off my tongue then. Oh wait, then I couldn't tell you your precious information." Richard grinned. "Once upon a time there was a little boy-"

"Shut up!" Eddie almost screamed; Richard didn't seem to care. 

"He was just six years old. His parents were farmers, but that year the King had decided to increase the taxes, so they had to sell most of their harvest to pay them. Unfortunately, that left them with little money and not enough food to provide for the family." Richard licked his lip, still swollen. "One day, the little boy went to the market, he was keeping his older brother company, who wanted desperately to find another job to provide for the family." Another pause. "His brother was talking to a carpenter and then the little boy saw it. A table full of bread just in front of him!" The moonlight hit his face; his eyes shone. "He hadn't eaten for two days in a row, he was so hungry, so he took a loaf of bread." Richard let go of the bars he was holding. "A guard nearby saw him. He grabbed him by the wrist and brought him in the centre of the market. His older brother was screaming for them to let him go, he was just six after all and probably didn't even know what stealing meant." He lowered his head. "But the guard told him he should have known better and then he pulled out a sword and... You are a guard; you know better than me what your law says about thieves."

All thieves were to have their right hand cut off. "The law is the law!" said Eddie. 

"He was just a child!" Richard grabbed the bars again. "Bi- his brother took him back home, but it was useless. The little boy died the day after. He didn't survive the injury."

Eddie looked at the ground. The law was hard, but it was the law. It prevented the people from revolting, the chaos from ensuing.

"So, this is what you believe in. A King who thinks it's right to cut off the hand of a starving boy."

Eddie shook his head. "The King made a law. It's not the King's fault if it was not respected." 

Richard hit the bars. "It's not fair!"

"It's not your right to decide what is fair and what is not!" Eddie put his hand at the back of his neck. The story had shaken him more than he liked. He could almost picture it right in front of him. A skinny boy holding out his hand to take a piece of bread and then the giant hand of a guard grabbing him, his sword rising in the air...

"Not that I expect you to understand." Richard interrupted his thoughts.

"What?"" Eddie felt like he was pulled out from a dream. 

"You mustn't have seen a lot of the outside world to follow a King like this one. This, or he brainwashed you." Again, that mocking expression. Again, that piercing words that wanted to sting, but nothing could hurt Eddie. 

"I have seen enough!" Eddie marched towards the bars, holding his sword as for comfort. "You want to know my point of view? You fucking rebels killed my parents!" 

Richard looked taken aback and Eddie instantly regretted having said that. He wasn't supposed to snap like this. He wasn't supposed to show any emotion. 

"Were they guards?" Richard's voice was almost a whisper, Eddie felt like he was kidding him. 

"No! No, you idiot, they weren't guards! They were just common people who had done nothing wrong and your fellow rebels killed them!" Eddie's cheeks were hot, his skin tickled, and he was clenching his fists. 

"That's not what we do. You see, we don't go around killing innocents as they make it seem." 

"Apparently you do." Eddie walked back, distancing himself from Richard. Never had someone made him lose his temper like that, never had someone made him feel that way, like he was about to crumble. Not even Henry and the others when they made fun of him, not even when Oscar Bowers would hit him, not even when the King looked deep into his eyes, as if he could read his mind... 

The silence between them was heavy, the sky was dark and the flickering light of the torches hung on the wall lighted the cold stones of the walls creating deformed shadows. Eddie didn't like them. They reminded him of the monster of his past. Every part of the Castle reminded him of it, of the reason he was there in the first place. He rationally knew that probably it wasn't Richard who had killed his parents, that it was pointless to take out his anger on him. He felt conflicted when he looked at him. A part of him saw him as an enemy of the Kingdom, someone who needed to be taken down, another part of him admired his strength. 

He moved his gaze towards him again. Richard had sat down, his face facing the wall on the left. "I'm sorry" he said.

"What?" 

"I said I'm sorry." Richard turned his head to look at him. "I don't believe my people would have done something like that, but if it's true then I'm sorry." 

Eddie didn't answer. All he was told his whole life was that the rebels were criminals and criminals are bad people who don't stop until they get what they want, no matter the cost or who they hurt in the process. Could he really mean what he was saying? Could he really be capable of empathy? It shouldn’t have been possible. 

Eddie composed himself. His spoke with his coldest, most distant tone. "I suggest you, you use your mouth less for telling stories and more for telling were your friends are hiding, tomorrow." 

"Or what?" Here was the mocking tone again. The spell was broken. 

"Or you will regret it. Trust me, there are worst things than hitting and dying."

*

When the next day came, Eddie woke up with an uneasy feeling. He hadn't slept very well, he felt like the world around him was blurred, like it wasn't real. As he sat on his bed, taking his head between his hands, the memories of a dream came back, almost floating in front of his eyes. He could almost see them clearly, shapes of people dancing in the floating dust lighted by the sun rays, shapes of swords clattering against one another. He was dreaming of his parents' death. He didn't like that kind of dreams, they were always confused, they always felt wrong. They made his fingers tremble and his body rigid. He didn't remember much about that day, only short flashes of images he wished he could forever erase from his brain. He remembered holding on to the leg of a table as if his whole life dependent on it, he remembered the taste of blood in his mouth, he remembered hearing his mother scream. 

He shook his head, trying to come back to reality. He approached the bowl full of water by his bed and washed his face, scrubbing his eyes hard until they burned. 

When he was dressed, he left his room, leaving the ghosts of his past behind him. He remembered having cried the whole night, when he was first brought to the Castle and left in that same room. He saw that small space as a prison who made him feel like he was suffocating, now it was the only place he could be himself, the only place he could feel. He was taught to wear a steel mask, but he wasn't sure anymore where the mask finished and where Eddie began. 

He walked down the corridors, trying to picture himself as that little scared boy. He was glad he wasn't there anymore. 

As he was sitting down having lunch, Butch Bowers approached him. "The King has requested your presence." 

Eddie didn't say anything to that, he just got up, his face expressionless and followed Bowers to the Throne Room. 

"You had me called, my King." Eddie bowed deeply. 

"Yes!" The King chuckles, holding his hands together, a creeping smile cutting his face. “Can you guess what day is today?”

Eddie thought about it a little while. “The seventeenth day of the month?” 

The King’s smile dropped, he stared at Eddie like that for a while, his eyes unfocused and his lips bended down. “No, silly child. It’s the day I get to do a little tour in our prisoner’s head.”

Oh. Eddie had been so busy recalling memories, that he had forgotten about it. “Yes, my King. My apologies.” 

“I want you to bring him to me during your shift. Here in the Throne Room.”

Eddie gulped, his eyes flickering between the backrest of the Throne and the wall behind it. “At what time?”

The King laughed. “Since you’ve been such a good soldier, so loyal to me, I’ve decided to reward you: you get to choose when!”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Are you sure, my King?” 

“Yes! Aren’t you happy, my dear boy? You will also get to watch while I do it!” The King got up from the Throne and walked towards him, he then bended his back, until his face was mere inches apart from Eddie’s. He then raised a hand and closed it around Eddie’s cheeks, his nails digging into the skin, not deep enough to cut it, but deep enough to hurt. “You don’t have problems with watching, do you my child? You don’t have problems with looking at me, do you?”

Eddie wanted to shake his head, afraid that his voice would come out trembling if he spoke, but the King’s grip was too tight. “N-not at all, my King.” And he tried, he really tried to look at him in the eyes, trying to stop that feeling of terror that would make his stomach tie in a knot. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t a child anymore. 

“Very well.” The King released him, and Eddie felt like he could breathe again. “You may go now.”

Eddie nodded and bowed. Taking a few deep breaths as quietly as possible. He turned around and, as he walked towards the doors, he tried not to imagine the King’s almost yellow eyes following him in every step, his gaze piercing his back like a knife. He tried not to imagine it, but he knew it was there. 

*

When midnight came, Eddie climbed the stairs of the tower with light steps, like he was taught, but his shoulders felt heavy as if he were carrying rocks on them. He still hadn’t completely shaken the feelings of the afternoon off of himself. The King had invited him to watch the torture happen, but Eddie knew it was an order and if he missed it, he would have been punished. Truth to be told, Eddie didn’t want to witness it. He had only heard stories of what the King was capable of doing with his powers, but while everyone else seemed thrilled to see it in real life at dinner, Eddie did not want to. He did not want to hear the screams. 

He knocked the door on the cell and Hockstetter opened it with a grin on his face. There was a light on his eyes, but it was closer to something dark. “We have a fun night ahead of us, Kaspbrak. Don’t make us wait too long!” 

“So, you all will be there?” asked Eddie, even if he pretty much knew it already.

“Of course! Only a fool would miss something like this!” And then he left, passing the keys to open the bars to Eddie. 

Eddie lowered his gaze, founding that his hand was trembling a little. He closed it against the keys firmly, trying to calm down. This wasn’t at all his favourite part of the job. He enjoyed the order and the peace that the Kingdom brought to people, but torturing and killing, even though he was theoretically capable of them both, never appealed to him as they did to the others. 

He secured the keys to his belt and entered the room, finding Richard sitting with his legs crossed. His face lighted up when he saw Eddie. “Ah! I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

“Is that so?” Eddie found that quite ironic. 

“Yes! I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” He got up and took the bars between his bony, white fingers. “That you should chill out a little.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” 

“I mean, come on.” Richard started to tap his fingertips against the bars. “You told me yesterday that if I didn’t speak today, I would regret it and look at me now.” He gestured towards his body. “Nothing has happened, well, nothing new at least.” He licked his lower lip. “So, you should really chill out about all the threatening. I mean, it’s kind of cute, but doesn’t really suit you.” 

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about. And you should stop here, for your own good.” Eddie felt his skin tickle. 

Richard rolled his eyes. “There we go again. I told you to chill out, man.”

“Stop talking to me like this! I’m not your friend!” Eddie was getting tired of his insolence. “I’m a guard and you should respect me as such!”

Richard giggled. “Oh, yes you are! A really cute one too!”

“Stop it right now!”

“And if I don’t? Oh, right. Nothing at all. You’re very good at threatening and very bad at acting.”

Now his cheeks were burning with anger. How dared he? “How dare you? How dare you talking to me like this?” His voice had raised of a few octaves, his fists were clenching, his shoulders trembling. 

“I talk to you the way I fucking want to.” He tilted his head to the side and started to laugh. “You look like you’re about to explode.” 

“You don’t get to talk to me the way you want to. Fucking stop this bullshit already!” But it was true. Eddie really did feel like he was about to explode, even if he was trying hard to contain himself. 

“You’re really cute like this, you know? You look like those little dogs who bark loud but never bite.” He kept on laughing. “Has anyone ever told you that? I bet you couldn’t even hurt a fly”

“Fucking shut up!” Eddie screamed, his fist colliding against the stone wall. It hurt like hell, Eddie quickly realised, but Richard’s words hurt more. Because it was all true. For all of his life he had been told that he was weak, incapable of doing any real damage, no matter how much he hit hard with his sword. Always the small one, always the weak one. 

Richard stared at him, silent for a moment. “Is that supposed to scare me? To be honest, you’re not doing a very good job.” 

Eddie turned around, slowly. He looked at the man in front of him, covered in bruised, but still with a sharping tongue. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to speak to him like that, to disrespect him like that. He was a guard. Richard was indeed supposed to be scared of him. And he did not know him, he didn’t know what he was capable of. Eddie felt so humiliated, he wasn’t even able to make a stupid prisoner shut up. But he could do it. He will do it. “You want to see something scary?” he whispered. 

Richard leaned towards him. “What?”

“Get to the wall and turn around.” Eddie took the keys from his belt and the rope he had brought for a precise purpose.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into that!” said Richard, when he saw it, a stupid smirk on his face.

“You will regret talking to me like that, you will regret all of it!” Eddie shouted. 

When Richard had done as he had ordered, Eddie opened the bars and entered the little space. He took both of Richard’s wrists on his hand and tied them with the rope and tight as he could. “Don’t try to run away, it would be useless.” 

“Where are we going? Thought the beating only happened during the day.” 

“I’m taking you to the King.” Eddie pulled his wrists and he pushed him out of the cell. 

“Wait, wait, the King?” Eddie could hear something new in Richard’s voice, some sort of nervousness. “Is it going to happen now?” Richard’s voice was trembling. Now Eddie could really feel it, he was scared. 

“If it’s the execution you are talking about, then no.” Eddie held him firmly, as he led him down the stairs. “But I can assure you, you’ll wish you were dead after this.” 

Richard briefly looked at him, his eyes wide. 

A part of Eddie was satisfied that he had finally managed to make him shut up, but something in his stomach didn’t seem to agree. He bit his lip, trying not to show it. 

For the rest of the walk, they remained silent and when they reached the Throne Room, Eddie found Henry Bowers waiting outside the doors. “Tell the King I brought the prisoner.”

Henry smiled. “So soon? You couldn’t wait for it, could you?”

“Just do it.” Eddie felt again that grip on his stomach. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t wait for it, quite the opposite, actually, but Richard had made him lose his temper and he…

“Come in” said the voice of the King from inside the Throne Room.

Henry had opened the doors and Eddie pushed Richard inside. Much like the day he was captured, all the guards were reunited in the Throne Room, Eddie saw Oscar Bowers standing by the King, a dark look on his face, and then Henry had walked to place himself by his right, the rest of his group already there, they were all grinning, unable to stand still because of the anticipation. Eddie thought they were idiots, they should be preparing themselves to intervene if anything were to happen, instead of acting like they were about to see a funny show. 

When they reached the centre of the room, Eddie pushed Richard down to his knees, then he stepped back, still remaining close enough that he could have easily grabbed him if he attempted to move. That didn’t happen, though. The King immediately walked towards them, lowering down to look at Richard’s face, smiling widely at him.

“Release him. Let’s give the boy here some dignity” said the King.

Eddie took out his knife from his boot and cut through the rope that was holding Richard’s wrists. As he did so, however, Richard suddenly tried to get up, his arms moving forward, but Eddie was faster and he grabbed him, holding on his waist, preventing him from moving. He heard a soft sound escaping Richard’s lips, like a moan of pain. Eddie didn’t realise his grip, but he also avoided squeezing any harder. There was no use in inflicting more pain on his injuries than necessary, not since what was about to happen. 

“I see you are quite a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” said the King, and everybody in the room, except for Eddie laughed. “It will be even more fun to break you.” The King grabbed Richard’s face, just like he had done with Eddie hours before. “But I’m a kind King, so I want to give you one last chance to speak. Where are your friends hiding?”

Richard was trying to escape Eddie’s and the King’s grips, but his movements were weak. “Fuck off.”

“Is that your final answer, are you sure?” 

Richard didn’t say anything. 

“Very well, then. You are giving me no choice.” The King held Richard’s face closer to his own. “Look at me.” 

For a moment, nothing happened. Eddie couldn’t see Richard’s face, but he felt his body become more rigid, as if he was paralysed. Then, he started to shake. The King raised his hand, silently ordering Eddie to let go. Eddie did, but Richard didn’t try to move anymore, and Eddie walked to his side, realising that his eyes were focused behind the King, on the back of the room. 

“Mother?” Richard whispered. 

Eddie followed his gaze, but there was no woman standing in the room. So, this was it. 

Richard leaned forward, his eyes raising and then his face contorted in an expression of horror. “Mother! No, please!” he screamed.

Eddie fought the instinct to bring his hands to the sides of his head to cover his ears. 

“Please, don’t! Don’t do this!” Richard fell back, pushing himself backwards, as if he was escaping from something. “Please, stop!” 

“Oh, but it will stop.” The King’s voice spoke, cutting the air like a knife. “Tell me where you friends are and it will stop.” 

Richard was painting, his shoulders raising faster and faster. He bit down his lip, hard, shaking his head. 

“As you wish, then.” 

Richard screamed again. He buried his hands on his hair, gripping it hard. “This can’t be real.” 

“Are you sure about that?” The King mocked him. 

“Mom, please, I’m sorry. Wake up, I’m sorry.” Richard whispered, his eyes shut, his body rocking back and forward like a child. 

Eddie had heard about how he would mock the guards when they would beat him, never complaining about the pain, but now it was different. There were tears streaming down his face. Eddie closed his hands, nails digging in the skin, trying to force himself not to look away. Something didn’t feel right. 

“No, no. I can’t” Richard said again, a sob breaking out of him. “I can’t, he’ll kill them.” 

Eddie wondered what the hell he was seeing, so horrible to make him cry like that. For a brief moment, he turned his gaze towards Henry, Patrick, Victor and Belch. They were all laughing like maniacs, the idiots. Eddie looked at Richard again. He knew well how the King’s powers worked, how he was able to make you see your worst fear and make it feel real. Still, he had a hard time imagining that. He had a hard time imagining how Richard could see whatever he was seeing as clearly as Eddie could see him now. He didn’t know why, but he felt like throwing up.

“No, please, don’t, please.” Richard hid his face behind his hands, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

The King’s foot hit the floor hard. Eddie almost shuddered. The King looked very angry. His eyebrows were furrowed, his fists clenched and his jaw tight. Eddie noticed how the laughter had stopped abruptly, the only sound to be heard was Richard’s sobs. 

“Look at you now, so pathetic.” The King turned away. “You will break, I promise you that. This was just the beginning.” Then he looked at Eddie. “Take him back to his cell!”

“Yes, my King.” Eddie moved his gaze towards Richard, who now was breathing slower, his eyes locked to the floor a couple of feet from him. 

Eddie took him from his wrists, forcing him to stand up. Richard didn’t put any resistance. They walked out of the Throne Room, Eddie heard the other guards starting to laugh again, shouting insults at Richard as they passed, someone spat on their direction. 

The journey back to the cell was silent, Eddie almost had to drag Richard, but not because he was trying to escape. Richard’s body had gone limp, it felt like carrying a dead weight. When they arrived, Eddie pushed Richard behind the bars, closing them quickly and then Richard collapsed on the ground. 

Eddie turned his head away. Just one hour before the man in front of him looked proud and brave and strong, despite all of his injuries and now he was just a shadow of himself. Eddie bit his lip, he felt as if something was gripping his stomach. But that was none of his business. He wasn’t supposed to care about whatever happened to the prisoner. But he couldn’t help it. There was a light on Richard’s eyes, something like a fire that could burned villages, kingdoms and the King wanted to extinguish that. And Eddie had helped him. He had brought Richard to the Throne Room. He had helped him. He had done his job. 

When he looked at him again, Richard was pressing his head to his knees, his hands holding his hair tight as he had done before. "You were right." His voice was almost a whisper, if the cell wasn't extremely quiet Eddie wouldn't have heard him. "I wish I was dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that made sense.  
> I'll see you with a new chapter probably next week.  
> Chapter title: lyrics from "Thought Contagion" by Muse


	4. But something has changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> It's a horrible period, so I'll keep it short: enjoy the chapter!  
> Title: Something Human - Muse

The next day, when Eddie began his watch, he found Richard in a position similar to the one he had left him the day before: sitting with his knees to his chest and his eyes fixed on a point in front of him. He didn’t say anything, unlike what he used to do before, so Eddie remained quiet for a long time, just looking at him. His clothes were dirty, his hair greasy, his face pale. Not very different from what he had seen the days prior the King’s torture, but something wasn’t the same anymore. Richard’s fingers were holding his legs, tight, sometimes fidgeting, but for the rest he was completely still. Eddie twisted his own fingers, something about that sight was bothering him. 

Because, even if Eddie knew he was just following orders, deep down a part of him was screaming that it was all his fault.

“You finally learned how to keep your mouth closed?” he said, breaking the heavy silence. He could have just let the night pass, an easy one for once, without fighting with Richard, but seeing him like that was disturbing him.

Richard slowly turned his head towards him, his eyes studying him from a moment, a hint of surprise written in them. “Now you want me to talk? I thought you would be celebrating.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at the statement. “You just don’t act like this, usually.” 

Richard shook his head, a smile on his lips, but it wasn’t a sincere one. “What do you want from me? You don’t know me.” 

“So, are you denying that you talk all the fucking time?” 

“Maybe I don’t feel like talking right now.” He scratched his forehead. “Why don’t you bring me to him already? Get this over with.” 

Eddie couldn’t say he was surprised. “Why are you always so eager to get hurt?”

Richard looked at him, batting his eyelashes slowly. “I just don’t like the waiting” he hissed.

A part of Eddie felt relived, oddly enough. The fire was still in him, then. 

“I wasn’t ordered to do so.” 

Richard looked away, but Eddie could see his whole body relax, freeing his muscles from the tension. “Oh, right. Sometimes I forget you’re all the King’s loyal dogs. Did you enjoy yourself yesterday? Was it a great show as your friends guards describe it?” he said with a hard tone. 

Eddie really couldn’t blame him. Probably, Vic, Belch and Patrick had spent their entire watch talking about what had happened the night before, mocking him and insulting him. Something burned inside of Eddie at the thought. “Not at all.” 

Richard looked at him again, his eyebrow raised. “You’re weird, compared to the others I mean.” 

Eddie ignored that. “You don’t have to go through that again, you know?” he tried to keep his voice neutral. 

“And betray my friends? I don’t think so.” His lips were curled, as if Eddie had said something funny.

“Maybe you should be a little more selfish.” 

“Maybe you should have more friends.” He made a pause. “I’ll take it all, you know? I’ll take it all if that means they will be safe.” 

There it was the fire. That stubbornness that made Richard face all that pain without breaking, that made him stand in front of the King without showing a mere trace of fear, that made him talk back to the guards as if they couldn’t have killed him on the spot. He felt his heart racing a little. “I know.” Eddie breathed. 

*

After that, Richard had come back at making comments about him and Eddie had talked back, like they did before the torture’s King had happened. It felt good in a way, Eddie was satisfied in knowing that Richard was still himself, even if he didn’t know why. 

When dinner came, Eddie learned from Vic that the King had ordered him to bring Richard back to him during his watch. Eddie felt a cold shiver running down his spine. He tried not to give away any of his thoughts to the others. He wasn’t supposed to care. But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Richard’s body curled up to the floor, tears streaming down his face, his limbs shaking. Again, a weird feeling, as if his stomach was dropping. 

When midnight came, he found himself almost running to the cell, eager to see Richard. To see how he was. He frantically knocked to the door and he didn’t even hear what Patrick was telling him, shutting the door behind him without a second thought. 

Behind the bars, Richard was laying back on the side, his body turned towards him, his eyes closed and his breath even. He was sleeping. 

“Oh” Eddie breathed. He leaned to the wall and watched him. Because he was supposed to. 

It was weird, in a way. It had happened often that Richard would eventually fall asleep during his watch, since it was always night-time, so it wasn’t the first time he saw the other boy sleeping, but that day it was different. Eddie let himself take his time to look at Richard, to really see him. The other boy was quite tall, a little taller than Eddie himself, but he had curled up in a ball and that made him look so small, kind of vulnerable in a sort of way, all the opposite from what he was like in real life, according to all the stories Eddie had hear of him. His features were relaxed, his eyelashes brushed gently against his skin. His lips, for once pressed together, were a dark shade of pink and looked soft…

Eddie shook himself from those thoughts. That was a prisoner, a prisoner. 

Suddenly, the peaceful features of Richard started to contort themselves. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips turned down. Then he talked.

“No, stop it, stop it!” he was shaking. 

Eddie tilted his head, unsure of how to act. He pondered for a moment if he should have woken him up from what was definitely a nightmare. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” 

Eddie approached the bars, kneeling down in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, before he brought a hand forward to gently shake Richard’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

Richard’s eyes snapped open. Quickly, so quickly Eddie didn’t even realise what was happening, Richard sat up, grabbed him by the collar and held his free hand close to his neck, closed as if he was holding something. 

“Let me go” hissed Eddie, placing both of his hands on Richard’s to force him to let go of his shirt. 

“Oh” whispered Richard, removing his hand from him. He then took his bifocals from the floor and placed them on his nose. “What happened?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You were having a nightmare and I woke you up.” He breathed deeply, trying to slow down his racing heart. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

“Hold habits die hard.” Richard lowered his gaze. “Thank you, by the way, I-“ he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“What’s this?” he pointed at his hand. 

Eddie followed his gaze, landing on his left hand, still curled around one of the bars. “A ring?” 

“I- it’s-“ Richard looked like he had seen a ghost, with his face pale and his mouth opening and closing without making any coherent sound. “Can I see it, please?”

“What? Of course not!” Eddie got up, distancing himself from him, his hand holding the finger where his ring rested, as if to protect it. 

“Please, just for one moment, please!” Richard looked at him with pleading eyes, he had spoken as if his whole life depended on it. 

Eddie thought about it for a second, wondering what was all that about. He cared a lot about his ring, rarely taking it off. But after all, it wasn’t like Richard could use it like a weapon and if he tried to do something weird, he was the one with the sword. 

“Fine” he said. He took his ring off and stretched his arm so Richard could take it. 

When he did, Eddie was surprised to see the way he brought it closer to his face, inspecting every part of it, looking then inside of it. 

“Impossible” he whispered, handing it back to Eddie with an absent expression. 

“What? What’s wrong with it? What’s impossible?” asked Eddie frantically. 

“Where did you got it from? Did you steal it?”

“What? How dare you? It belonged to my father!”

Richard stared at him, as if he was truly seeing him from the first time. “What was your father’s name?” 

Eddie raised his eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“What was your father’s name?” insisted Richard. 

“Frank Kaspbrak. Happy now?” He felt violated in a way, to share his father’s name to somebody who belong to a group of people who had killed him. 

Richard batted his eyelashes and then started to laugh out loud, like a maniac. 

“What’s wrong with you now?”

Richard kept on laughing, until he forced himself to calm down. “Oh, they really have you fooled.”

“Who had me fooled?” He held onto to the bars.

Richard smirked. “Your friends guards and your beloved King.” He leaned forward, getting closer to Eddie. “The Rebels didn’t kill your father. He was one of us.”

Eddie jumped back, as if he had been burned. “What? You’re lying!”

Richard shook his head. “Not at all. He was one of us. That ring you’ve got” He pointed at it. “My father had one identical. They were best friends.” 

“It’s not true.” Eddie felt as if the ground was about to swallow him.

“It is. Didn’t you ever wonder what the “W” incisa on the inside stands for?”

Eddie didn’t answer. There was a knot in his throat.

“It stands for Wentworth, my father’s name.” Richard looked as if he didn’t believe it himself. “This is absurd. Ironic in a way.” 

“This is bullshit! It’s all bullshit!” Eddie screamed. 

“Why would I lie?” 

“I don’t know! To hurt me!” 

Richard gazed at him; his eyes darker than usual. “I may, but still, it is not my intention.” 

“I don’t fucking believe you!” Eddie walked back to the wall, leaning his back against it. His breath was accelerated, but he tried to steady it. This wasn’t worth the trouble; Richard was just a scum criminal who had made up a story to hurt his feelings.

“Go check in that room where you keep the prisoners’ stuff.” 

“Nonsense.”

“Go check.” 

They didn’t talk anymore after that. 

*

When the sun was up, Eddie left the cell. Normally, he couldn’t wait to go to his room and get in the bed to fall asleep as soon as his face touched the pillow, but he was still bothered by his conversation with Richard. He knew it was all lies, but he couldn’t shake the sense of honesty he had emanated when he had told him about the ring. 

The thoughts continued to haunt him, his room, where he would always find refuge, seemed not to be able to keep the doubt away.

He found himself picking at his food during dinner, Eddie felt his stomach tied in knot, while a voice in his head kept on whispering to him: what if he’s right?

So, when it was time to retire again before his watch, Eddie turned left, instead of right towards the rooms, and headed towards the room where they kept all the objects confiscated from the prisoners. As he walked, Eddie felt his legs heavy and his hands sweating. Rationally, he thought he wouldn’t find anything, but something inside of him was making his heart race and his organs twisting. 

When he reached the room, which to his surprise wasn’t guarded, he pushed the door open as quietly as possible. He had never been in that room before, and he found himself staring at what seemed an endless line of shelves, each full of boxes. Each shelf was marked by a letter, and Eddie was glad about that. He walked slowly, his hands trembling, until he reached the shelf marked with a K. Eddie scanned through all the boxes, trying to keep his eyes focused, but everything seemed blurry. 

He had almost gone through all the boxes, a feeling of relief building in his chest, until he noticed a small box at the back of shelf, hidden by two other ones. 

He took it, his hands still shaking, and he noticed the letters “F. K.” scribbled on it. He tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence. But when he opened the box and took out of it a journal, opening the first page his whole world shuttered. 

On the first page of the journal there was written: PROPERTY OF FRANK KASPBRAK.


	5. I don't belong here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> Sorry if this is late. Honestly, thanks to the millionth lockdown, I'm no longer aware of what day it is. Anyway, thank you for reading and for your support :)  
> TW: panick attack and suicide idealization.  
> Chapter title form Explorers by Muse  
> Enjoy!

It felt like a dream when Eddie walked back to his room, the newfound journal hidden inside of his shirt. He walked through the familiar halls, stepping on the stones he had stepped on for the majority of his life, but everything felt wrong, foreign. His head was spinning so fast, he was afraid he would faint, his teary eyes couldn’t focus on his surroundings. 

When he finally reached his room, he closed the door behind him and collapsed on the floor. He took the journal out of his shirt and let it fall on the ground. He closed his eyes, and his hands grabbed his hair. 

His head was about to explode. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding on his chest so fast that it could have jumped out from his body. Even if he was sitting down, he struggled to find balance, his stomach was so twisted he could have thrown up. Tears began to stream down his face. His fingers gripped hard on his hair. His legs were shaking uncontrollably.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes. The world, once familiar, was reduced to a strange blur, nothing made sense anymore, nothing was real anymore.  
He curled himself up, holding onto his knees. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. It was just dream. It was just a nightmare. 

He sobbed and he bit his fingers hard, trying to muffle the sound. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. 

That was it. He was going to die in that room, in that strange room that didn’t felt his anymore. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t feel his body anymore. 

After what felt like a lifetime, he stopped sobbing. His slowly, so slowly, started to regain control of his breath, breathing in and out, pressing his thumb to his pulse point on the wrist to feel his heart slowing down. It felt comforting in a way. He was still alive, the only thing that kept him down to earth. 

He breathed again, scanning his room as he came back to reality. His eyes fell to the discarded journal on the floor. With more steady hands, he reached for it, caressing it with a softness that he never used. He opened it, gently flipping through the old pages, until he noticed a familiar name. Wentworth. 

June 13  
Today I went to see Wentworth. Maggie was sweet as always. We discussed the new strategy. Went said that we should try to break in the castle, join our forces together. I have some doubts. Zach didn’t come. He thinks it’s not safe to meet up anymore. I’m afraid he’s about to leave us. I wanted to wait for his son to leave the room to tell him that there was another public execution today, a young girl about sixteen years old. He told him his son should hear that, that there is no use in sheltering the children from reality. 

Eddie turned the page. 

June 18  
I went to see Wentworth again. He changed his mind about the plan. After John’s death, he doesn’t feel safe anymore. We found Richie looking into our maps. That boy is a volcano. I feel like he and Eddie would be friends, but Sonia doesn’t let me bring him with me, she’s so scared someone will find us. She doesn’t want me to go to the meetings anymore, she says I’m putting my son in danger. She doesn’t seem to understand that I’m fighting to build a better world for him to live in. Today those monsters hit a man so hard they killed him.

Eddie smiled weakly when he read his mother’s name, touching it lightly with his fingertip as if he could touch her. And that name then, Richie. Was the little boy that his father said could be his friend really the man locked up in the cell in the tower?

June 23  
I went to see Zach today. He said we should keep our profile low for now. Went said it was time to act, but I feel like Zach is right. When I left, I saw someone standing by a tree. I swear there was somebody there, but when I turned around, they were gone. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I fear they might have found us. 

June 28  
Sonia and I had a fight today. She said this is nonsense, that I won’t be able to change a thing, that I’m delusional. I told this to Went and he told me not to lose faith. That we can’t let the King win, that we need to stop him. That living like this is not like living. He says he has a new plan. 

Oddly enough, the next pages were ripped out. The whole month of July wasn’t covered. 

August 4  
I think they have found us. I’m considering sending Eddie away, to live with someone else, so he will be safe. Sonia doesn’t agree with me, she insists it’s better to keep our son close, to protect him. I’m not sure I will be able to protect him. The guards don’t stop even in front of children. They don’t have mercy for anyone. They are all the King’s puppets. 

Eddie felt a grip on his chest.

August 7  
Eddie asked me today why he can’t play outside anymore. Sonia came up with a story about dirty grass, but I don’t know for how long we’ll be able to keep him inside. We should have sent him to live with the Denbroughs. 

August 12  
Today I gave Eddie my ring. I told him to keep it safe. He smiled so brightly. I’m leaving tomorrow morning; I’m putting my family in danger. It’s better this way. I just wish I’ll see my boy again one day. 

That was the last page. Eddie closed the journal and held it to his chest, biting down on his lower lip. His father never left, one of the few things he remembered was him telling him to hide the day he was killed. He didn’t remember the precise day, but it was hot, it must have been summer. That was why it was the last page. Because that night, the rebels had come to kill him, he never had a chance to write anything else. 

No, not the Rebels, the guards.

His head was spinning again. 

For his whole life, Eddie had wondered if his father would be proud of him. If he would be proud of how he had mastered the sword and the staff and the knives. Of how high he could bring his shield. Of how quickly he could run. Of how well he knew the sword. Of how the King had tasked him to watch over one of the most wanted criminals of the whole Kingdom. 

One of the most wanted criminals of the whole Kingdom. The son of his father’s best friend. 

Sure, how proud his father would be. How proud he would be to know that he was a guard, a monster, a puppet of the King. How proud he would be to know that he was ready to go on the street and do whatever it would take to make the people respect the law. Even children, because that was what the law said. Beating, whipping, executing, they all applied to everyone, young, old and children. 

Eddie felt ashamed, so ashamed. He had justified the guards’ actions when Richard had told him the story of that little boy. He had thought it was right to do something like that. By just being a guard, he agreed to it. What would his father think of him, if he saw him wearing the armour, wearing the King’s stemma? He wouldn’t think he was someone who could protect the Kingdom and its inhabitants, he would think he was someone that needed to be protected from. 

Eddie felt like screaming. For all of those years, he had followed the people who had killed his father, worst, he was one of them. And he had hated the people his father had loved. He had hated what his father was part of, what he believed. What he believed for him, to make a better world for him. And he had wanted to destroy that. To destroy what his father had died for. How could he ever make up for that?

Somebody knocked at his door. 

Eddie gasped, rushing to his bed to hide the journal under the covers. “Yes?” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t trembling too much. 

The door opened. It was Henry Bowers. “The King has requested your presence.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. What if they had found out about him taking the journal? 

He left the room feeling the gaze of Henry following him, as if he knew it all. 

When Eddie entered the Throne Room, he felt relieved in founding out he hadn’t been called because of the journal. 

“I want you to bring him to me during your watch” said the King, a sadistic smile in his face. 

“Yes, my King” replied Eddie, more because of the habit than anything. He wanted to scream at the King for having lied to him, for having manipulated him like that, for turning him against the people he was meant to be friends with. For the first time in his life, Eddie saw the King for who he really was. Suddenly, that awful feeling that he always had in front of him made sense. The King was a monster, a scary one too. A monster who amused himself by torturing people and having people killed. There was no justice in that. 

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn’t notice the King approaching him. 

“What are you thinking about, Edward?” he said in a high-pitched voice. 

Eddie shook his head. “Nothing at all.” 

The King smiled, walking around him as if to study him. “Well, you seem to be troubled. Did you have a rough night? Perhaps you had trouble falling asleep when you got back from your watch.” 

“N-no, my King. Everything is fine.” He mentally cursed himself for having stuttered. 

The King looked him directly in the eyes. Eddie, unable to look away, prayed with everything he had that his face wouldn’t give away what he had found out. 

“Very well, then. You may go.” The King dismissed him. 

When Eddie reached the door, he heard once more the King’s voice. 

“Oh, and don’t forget about tonight, my child.” 

Eddie only turned around to bow, as not to raise any suspicion. The pet name made him burn with rage. 

*

Richie was utterly exhausted.

He had lost count of the days he had spent in the cell. There was no point in counting anyway. He had a slight sense of time passing. The only things that gave structure to his days were the changing of the guards' turns, that left him indifferent, and the tortures. It was getting harder and harder to resist to them. 

He honestly didn't think he would feel so broken, he could barely fathom the idea that a human being could ever feel so devasted. He thought he could keep up a cold mask of strength, but what the King had done... He couldn't even bring himself to think about it. 

It all had looked so real, so terrifyingly real. He had really believed that his mother was standing there, flash and bones, and that a guard had stabbed her on the chest. He had no idea how she got there, how they could have found her, and yet there she was, begging and pleading him to just tell the truth so they would let her go.

And then, she had disappeared. As if it had just been a dream.

When the night guard brought him back to his cell, it all came down on him. It wasn't real, it couldn't have been real. But then again, how was it possible? How could he had seen his mother there?

And then he felt ashamed. He had promised himself that he would never show any weakness, that he was never going to let them know how much it hurt. But then he had seen his mother and he didn't care to keep the façade any longer, he couldn't. He just wanted her to be safe. 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was safe. She was hidden away, and nobody would find her. At least, he hoped so.

He must have made a fool of himself. He felt his cheek burn when he recalled that moment. He wished so badly he could break the guards' teeth, when they talked about it with a mocking tone, when they told him he had cried like a baby with their faces twisted in a cruel expression.

When the last time he was dragged to the torture room the guard had threatened him to bring him back to the king again if he didn't answer.

And for a moment, just for a brief moment, he had thought he should just say it. Say where they are, so everything will stop. So, he would no longer suffer. He had to bite down his lip, so hard he broke it and then he could taste the metallic blood on his mouth. Because he was about to say it. 

So, he had come to the conclusion, that it was better if they just finished him off. It was better if they would just go ahead with their stupid execution and put an end to all of it. Because he didn't know how long he could continue that way. If he was meant to die, he didn't want to die as a broken man, he didn't want them to destroy him. He wanted to be himself, his silly and funny and carefree self. This was how he wanted to go. And if he really wasn't strong enough to endure what they were doing to him; it was better to die before he actually said something that could put his friends in danger. But they weren't going to do it any time soon. Maybe, if he could grab one of their swords, he could...

He suddenly shook himself from these thoughts. No, he couldn't. It was not an option. What would have Bev thought if she knew he had given up so easily? And Bill? And Stan? And everyone? He wondered if they had found out what was happening to him, if they had any idea. 

And yet, it looked impossible to find any motivation to carry on, when he knew his was a hopeless situation. But he also knew he had to resist. For them.

Then, there was also the night guard. He thought about how kind he was to him, when he had shaken him off that nightmare he was having and all the times he had called the healer for him. Nonetheless, he was still a guard. He could not trust him. 

He recalled the night before, when he had seen his ring. A twin of the one he had left to Beverly, hoping she would forgive him. How could he have it? Could he really be Frank's son? And what was he doing in the Castle? He distantly remembered his father crying, telling his mother how his best friend and his family were murdered, how he said he had to bury their bodies. He couldn't remember if he had talked about his son. He tried to picture in his mind Frank's face, trying to find some resemblance with the man, who stood before him each night, but so much time had passed, and he was so young back then. 

The memories of the people his father had known were blurred. The only thing he could clearly remember was how they all left one night and never came back. His mother had told him, with tears streaming down her face, that his father and his friends had gone to the Castle in a desperate attempt to kill the King and how it hadn't work out. 

Richie felt his heart tighten in his chest at the memory. The only good thing that had come out of it, was how his friendship with the Losers was born. All of them, except for Beverly, shared the same past, their parents had had the same fate. And they had picked up their legacy in hope to succeed, this time around. 

And yet, there he was. 

"Have a good night, Tozier."

His thoughts were interrupted by the guard, the tall one with black hair, who waved to him, before leaving. 

Richie batted his eyelashes, unable to find the will to come up with some sharp comment. 

Then, the night guard entered, his arms crossed on his chest. He didn't even spare him a glance, before resting his back on the wall, his gaze unfocused. 

Richie mentally debated if he supposed to ask. He wanted to know, he wanted to know so badly. He wanted to ask him if he had gone to that room, if he had found something that could prove if he really was Frank's son. 

But then again, if he really was, did Richie want to know? Did he want to know that the child of one of the fiercest rebels had become a guard of the King, the exact thing they were fighting?

In the end, he asked anyway. He had never been able to hold his tongue, after all. "So, did you find anything?" 

For a while, the guard didn't answer. "Yes" he whispered.

Richie raised his eyebrow in anticipation. "So?"

"So?" The guard sighed. "So, I have to take you to the King tonight."

"Oh." That was it. It didn't matter who his parents were, he was a guard, just a guard. One who enjoyed hurting other people and who probably enjoyed seeing him being torn apart. He probably couldn't wait for it. "Well, why don't you just do it! Let's get this over with!" Richie stood up so fast, too fast, his ribs hurt. 

The guard turned towards him. "You think I'm having fun? Well, then you're wrong."

"Why do you do it, then?" Richie challenged him.

"Because I have no choice! There is nothing I can do!" He was breathing faster and faster. "I can do nothing. I'm sorry."

Richie was taken aback. "Okay." He paused for a second. "And if there was something that you could do, what would it be?"

The guard pondered his words. "I'd tell you that whatever he's going to show you, it's not real." He bit his nails. "He has a power, you see. He can get into your head, I don't know how, but he can get into your head and he can see what your biggest fears are and then he uses them against you." He came closer to him. "But it's not real. None of it is. Keep that in mind and try to resist."

Richie wasn't shocked at the revelation, on the contrary, he was relieved. That meant his mother was alive and safe. "You don't tell me to confess anymore?" He hadn't missed that. 

The guard shook his head. "I guess you have figured it out, but it will be useless. He's never going to let you go. As soon as you tell him what he wants to know, he'll have you killed." 

Richie took a deep breath. Well, he was expecting that. "So there really is no way out for me." 

The guard leaned towards him, closing the bars in his hands. "But you can resist, you don't have to give him what he wants. You're so strong, don't let him destroy you." 

Richie looked at him. He had always been good at reading people, therefore, he tried to scan his eyes, looking for a sign of sarcasm or maliciousness. He could only see honesty. 

Richie pulled one of his curls behind his ear. "Thanks, I guess."

*

Back to his room, Eddie was laying down on his bed, mindlessly flipping through the page of his father journal. He didn’t know what to do. He felt extremely tired, but the images of what had happened a couple of hours prior wouldn’t leave him alone and he felt like if he had closed his eyes, he would see the King’s face tormenting him. 

He closed the journal, putting it on his nightstand. He bit his lip, looking outside of his window to see the sun. The sun. The outside world. The world outside of the castle. An unknown world to him. The place where he belonged. 

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He knew he couldn’t continue to keep the façade of a good guard for much longer, he had barely managed to do it with the King a few hours prior. Soon he would explode. The guilt of having being part of the guards for so many years weighted on him, he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t stay in the castle anymore. He thought of all those years spent learning fighting techniques, how the first rule was always to protect the King at all cost, to make the people respect the law at all cost. A law that he saw now as just a bunch of rules to make the people suffer. He wanted to make it right, but he didn’t know how. 

He thought then about his father’s words. About how he was desperate to fight for a better world, a world free from tyranny. About how he died for this ideal. 

At least I'll die for something I believe in. What will you die for?

Richard’s words resonated in his head. 

Eddie’s eyes snapped open. Suddenly, he knew what to do. 

“I promise, father, you will be proud of me” Eddie whispered to the empty room. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough to make up for all the years spent by the King’s side, but it could be a start. 

He got up from his bed, a new determination was born in him. After all those hours of indecision, everything seemed so clear now. The right thing to do seemed so clear now. 

He was going to break Richard out.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated.  
> Fic title: lyrics from "Resistance" by Muse.  
> Chapter title: lyrics from "Psycho" by Muse.


End file.
